


Honour Among Thieves

by FrostWolf



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: AU, Alec Ryder survives, Engineer!Ryder - Freeform, Exile Ryder AU, He basically exiles himself, He's a dick, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Ryder doesn't become Pathfinder, Ryder goes to Kadara, Ryder's name is Kieran, Slow Burn, Slow Updates, Smuggler!Ryder, for now, irrgular updates, more or less
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:20:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22106212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostWolf/pseuds/FrostWolf
Summary: "They left him.It doesn't hit him at first but when it does, he feels like he can't breathe again. They left him. His own father left him for dead. Maybe they thought he was dead anyway but that didn't change the fact that they left him. Didn't even take his body with them. Just left him lying here, on a foreign world that killed him, under foreign stars. Alone. He had been left alone in a world he didn't belong to. "Exiles AU - Alec Ryder doesn't give his life for his son on Habitat 7. Instead, Kieran Ryder wakes up alone and somehow very much alive. He hitches a ride to Kadara before ultimately deciding that he won't play by his father's rules anymore.
Relationships: Male Ryder | Scott/Reyes Vidal, Ryder/Reyes Vidal
Comments: 10
Kudos: 67





	1. Abandoned

**Author's Note:**

> So I've finally found the time to continue my playthrough of Mass Effect Andromeda and to be honest, I fell for Reyes the moment I set eyes on him. Sorry Jaal, maybe next time. However, during the missions on Kadara I just couldn't stop wishing I could actually STAY here. So I thought...why not? What if? What if Ryder actually stayed on Kadara? What if he never became Pathfinder in the first place but instead, he finds his own way to help the Galaxy? So yeah, that's where this comes from. Lots of stuff for this fic isn't yet plotted out and I will make it up as I go. This chapter was very easy to write though, so I have great hopes for this fic.  
> Anyway, I don't want to keep you. I hope you enjoy this and give it a go! 
> 
> PS: Since he's wearing his helmet the whole time, I couldn't really fit in a description of my Ryder. Imagine him how you want if that's what you wanna do, but otherwise I picture him having reddish curls and almost black eyes. The rest will come as we go I guess. But just so you know and aren't confused later!
> 
> PPS: Currently unbeta-ed. If things get too bad with my colons or I'm switching tenses too often (I noticed that it happened, so I'm sorry if you still find one of these mistakes) then please let me know and I'll start looking for a beta!

He awakes to the sight of an unknown night sky. Stars and constellations he doesn't know, planets too bright, too close to spark recognition in his muddled brain. It's the first thing he notices – the strange, foreign stars. They're beautiful, brightening the night more than he has ever seen before. Or maybe it isn't even night. He doesn't know. There is little he knows right now – except for that something is...wrong. He shouldn't be here. He stares up at the stars, traces them with his eyes and knows he shouldn't be here.

He doesn't know how long it takes but eventually he starts getting more aware of his surroundings. He feels wetness in his clothes, along his back and legs and when he finally manages to turn his head, he realises he's lying in some sort of creek. No, not really a creek more like a very, very shallow lake. It's strange and he doesn't remember yet how he came here.

Belatedly he thinks that maybe he should sit up. Maybe he should look around. It's so silent around him, not a gust of wind or the lone song of a bird to keep him company. Though there is a low humming sound that he has no idea where it's coming from. It takes another few minutes before he finally manages to find the energy to sit up and take in his surroundings. He wasn't wrong with his perception of the lake but further than that, he realises he's surrounded by very high cliffs. _Great_ , he thinks and looks up up up until he can barely make out some sort of constructions at the edge of one cliff. Something tugs at his mind then, a memory perhaps, but it's just out of his reach and the more he focuses the further it slips away.

A sudden pain in his head makes him wince, a hand coming up to rub his temple trying to ease the pain – and only then does he notice the big hole in his helmet. He blames his strange awakening for not noticing before but the thought makes him panic. He shouldn't be able to breathe, how is he breathing, the atmosphere is far too thin, has far too much argon-nitrogen in it- he takes a deep shuddering breath and it somehow works. He has a headache though – a splitting one if he's honest. He feels tired as hell and now that he's focusing on it, he can't really ignore the ache in his whole body.

He gets to his feet, slowly, waiting for the dizziness to die down before he looks up at the cliff once more. He needs to get up there, that much he knows. Something...is wrong. Why is he alone? How did he get here? And _where_ is here at all? He's forgetting something, something important. His mind starts clearing slowly but he still feels too numbed to make sense of this. Maybe...if he looks around his surroundings maybe he can make sense of what happened. Deep in thought, he activates the scanner on his omni-tool – and then frowns. His omni-tool. Again something is nagging at the back of his mind and he focuses, thinks, maybe SAM can help him- SAM. A SAM unit, an AI. Designed by Alec Ryder, the pathfinder – his father.

It all comes back then. Waking up on the Hyperion, Sara next to him – unconscious. Confusion, so much damage, the Scourge – pain in his face, new scars on his body. Burn scars, mirrored in his sister's face. She's in a coma they said. Talking to his father and Alec overriding their pilot's command. A shuttle, then free-fall. He had tried to save someone- Liam. Liam Kosta. Looking for his father, finding him safe, unhurt – the Kett. And then...the vault. “This is what makes it all worthwhile”, his father had said – and then they were blown up. Falling again. Falling...falling...then pain. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe and there was his father, looking down at him. Muffled voices while his vision blurs. And then waking up. He's alone, they left him.

They left him.

It doesn't hit him at first but when it does, he feels like he can't breathe again. They left him. His own father left him for dead. Maybe they thought he was dead anyway but that didn't change the fact that they left him. Didn't even take his body with them. Just left him lying here, on a foreign world that killed him, under foreign stars. Alone. He had been left alone, in a world he didn't belong to.  
  
The force of this realisation makes him bend over and he empties his stomach into the shallow lake. Not that he had eaten much anyway. The thought of the Hyperion and all the people safely inside now leaves him gagging for much longer than his already weak body can stand and when he is finally finished he feels like dying all over again. Wiping at his mouth he has to close his eyes for a moment.  
  
They left him.  
  
And now he has no chance to ever get off this damned planet. He is alive but practically dead. Unless-

“SAM?”, he asks, flinching at how scratchy his own voice sounds. Well. Almost suffocating and then puking your guts out does that to you, he thinks self-ironically, before trying again. “SAM, can you hear me? Can you relay a message to my father? SAM?”

There is no response. Not even the now-familiar flickering feeling that normally tells him SAM is online on his implant. Just great. Maybe he trashed it when falling several dozen feet off a cliff. Maybe it was fried by whatever this strange cloud was, that hit them in the vault. He can't find out because he'd have to remove his helmet. And even though the glass is already broken, there were many fail-saves built into his armour that he really isn't keen on shutting off by removing his helmet just to uselessly push at his implant scar.

Sighing he resigns himself to a slow death of starvation and loneliness. He knows he should be angry, should be livid at his father for doing that to him, but right now he just feels numb. What good is there in feeling angry when there is no one he can let his anger out on?

Looking around one last time he felt lost, not sure what he should do – could do, really – when the familiar sound of an engine makes him look up, hope curling in his gut. A shuttle crosses the sky over his head, weaving around the hovering islands like it's nothing and then disappears from sight over one of the cliffs.  
  
He hesitates only a second before stumbling forward. His first steps are unsure like his body hasn't really figured out he's actually alive yet, but the further he gets the more in control he feels. A shuttle means there is a way off this planet. A way he can maybe, just maybe stay alive. A way back to the Hyperion, or the Nexus even. He doesn't dare to feel relief yet – after all, he hasn't reached the shuttle yet – but he can do nothing against the hope that's slowly taking over his brain, making his limbs lighter and his gait faster.

He can't climb the cliffs, that he knows, but maybe...just maybe there is a way around them. He has to try anyway. Maybe...maybe they didn't mean to leave him here. Maybe something came up and his father had no other choice- maybe they were here to retrieve him. _But then, why didn't they pick him up at the point he had fallen?_ , a voice whispers in the back of his head. He shoves it away almost violently. He can't think like that. Maybe they just hadn't seen him there. Maybe they thought he had gone further. Maybe they couldn't land here, he has no idea. It had to be his father, coming for him. What else would it be?

The walk is exhausting and truly makes him question all his prior training. It seems the fall as well as lying in a lake for...how long? Has actually erased all of his stamina. It annoys him, which is kind of a nice feeling after the numbness he had been carrying inside him ever since waking up. Still, panting up another of those steep embankments on the side of the river, he slowly loses patience. He doesn't know how long he's been walking until the cliffs finally eased down into something more climbable but if the shuttle hasn't left already, he has a feeling it won't wait around for much longer.

His muscles ache, straining from the hike so shortly after having injured himself, but he pushes on anyway. The knowledge that this might as well be his only chance of getting off of this planet fuels him, gives him strength when he pulls himself up another rock, and agility whenever he slips and has to find new footing quickly. His jump-jet broke when he fell as well, something he had to find out the hard way after trying to jump up a boulder and just ending up smashing into stone. For once at least he had been happy that no one had been around to see this embarrassment.

He carefully keeps himself from thinking about how he ended up alone on this planet, focusing on the strange plants around him instead while keeping an eye out for enemies as well. He hasn't forgotten the threat those strange aliens posed. The Kett. He can still see them shoot Kirkland and Greer and it makes his blood boil. They had been good people. They didn't deserve such a fate, kneeling and begging for their lives before being executed. He grits his teeth through another steep climb, pulling himself over a ledge. Andromeda surely hasn't held what the Initiative promised them.

Pulling himself over another ledge he rolls over onto his back, panting as he looks up at the strange sky again. He needs a break, his body is aching worse than he's ever felt before. Even during his time with the Alliance, he hasn't felt this strained. Admittedly, he hasn't fallen off a cliff after being hit by a mysterious cloud back then either, so...maybe he couldn't really compare his experience in the Milky Way to Andromeda.

This time, some of these strange, big plants cover half of his vision and he looks at them for a moment. Everything is looking so different. Everything _feels_ so different. He extends an aching arm and touches his gloved fingertips to one of the wide, slightly luminescent leaves. A slight shock wave runs through his arm and he jerks his hand back. Yes. Everything is so different here. And worst of all...his clothes are still wet. Heaving a sigh he picks himself up off the ground again. He has to keep going, has to find the shuttle, has to get off this planet and then punch his father in the face.

Satisfied with his resolution he turns around and walks to the other end of the plateau he has ended up on. To his surprise he finds himself overlooking a vast part of the area – apparently he had made it up onto the cliffs without even noticing. A tired little smirk tugs at his lips, no real mirth in the expression but feeling victorious all the same. From here he can actually see the shuttle – no, two shuttles – peaking out behind another rock formation. It's a good spot, hidden and easy to protect since it seems to be surrounded by boulders on three sides, but from his perch this far up he can see them nonetheless.

 _Almost there,_ he thinks with no small amount of relief and starts working his way down the plateau. He loses sight of the shuttles when he pushes on deeper into the strange undergrowth of the planet but keeps heading into the general direction he saw them in. There are no real trees out here but everything is covered in those huge leaved plants, rocks, and mushrooms. He doesn't try to touch them again. It slows him down considerably, having to crouch under leaves and squeezing past strangely humming mushrooms, but after another half hour he finally hears _noises_ again. It startles him and he almost trips over the vines he was carefully stepping over, but the sound of heavy crates being lugged around and careless banter makes him pick up his pace again. Almost there. He's almost made it and then he can _finally_ get off this damned planet.

Truly he's ready to just get back into cryo and get jetted off towards the Milky Way again. Andromeda has been a nice field-trip so far but he decidedly has enough now.

He doesn't recognise the voices the closer he gets, but he can make out two different once – one female with that unique Turian timbre to it – and another one belonging to a human male. No Kett then; he belatedly realises that this has actually been an option all along. “You idiot...”, he murmurs to himself, once again disturbed by the scratchiness of his voice – it doesn't sound like him at all – but yes. “ _That_ would have been just like you – running headfirst into a Kett ship.” He shakes his head at himself – bad idea it still hurts like a bitch – and then pulls himself together enough to finally step around the last piece of huge humming mushroom and onto the clearing between the rocks.

The people on the clearing haven't noticed him yet and he stops short in his track. This...doesn't look like a Nexus rescue team. The shuttles look used, rusty, with marks and scratches and – are those bullet holes? Indents, more likely, but still. The people walking around it don't look like he expected either – no clean uniforms or the standard armour everyone got when they signed up for the Initiative. Instead, they're wearing dark colours, armour made for agility rather than a fight and while the pieces fit together, they certainly aren't Nexus made.

Also, there are more people than he expected. He can see two people in full body armour lugging crates around, from one shuttle to the other and it seems like they're almost done judging by the few crates left standing around on the ground between the shuttles. Another two – the two who are still speaking – are standing a few feet away, the human casually leaning against one of the shuttles, his arms crossed, while the Turian looks down at him and signs at their helpers in some form of command.

It is at that moment that the human looks up and through the glass part of his helmet sharp, hazel eyes find his own. There's something in the stranger's gaze and he can't look away, keeps staring – until he hears the telltale rustle of guns being drawn.

“Woah woah woah- wait!”, he quickly calls out, raising his hands in the universal gesture for _oh-my-god-don't-shoot_. Or at least that's what keeps circling around in his mind.

“How did you find us!”, the Turian demands to know, reptilian eyes narrowed dangerously, her own hand on her weapon, even though she stays where she is. He supposes she's protected enough by the two spacesuits currently pointing their weapons at him. They must have dropped their crates. For one crazy moment he hopes they weren't carrying anything fragile.

“You know, I'm sure it would greatly benefit you if you just answered her honestly”, an accented voice pulls him out of his thoughts and back into the strange situation he has found himself in. _Why me..._ , he laments for a moment before letting his eyes wander back to the man with the voice like honey. He's the only one looking relaxed – still leaning against his shuttle, arms crossed. But the pistol is missing from his hip and he really wonders when the man had had the time to draw it. He certainly didn't see it.

An eyebrow raises on the strange man's face and he realises he still hasn't answered.

“Uh. I saw your shuttle cross over my lake. Thought you might be here to pick me up.”, he shrugs then which startles the two spacesuits because they shout at him not to move. In the very last second he stops himself from shrugging again. The Turian and the human exchange looks and he gets the impression they're having a silent conversation before the Turian turns to the spacesuits.

“Search him.”  
  
He has a hard time not to flinch when one of the suits approaches and roughly starts frisking him. He reminds himself that they're his only way off this planet and as it is, he can't really win a fight against them. Especially since he's not even sure if he _should_ fight them yet. He feels like he should feel frightened. Or at least worried. He knows just hours prior – with the Kett – he would have. But right now his head is pounding and he's so exhausted and still weirdly numb...he just can't care that much right now.  
  
“Take his weapons and anything that's suspicious.”, she tells them and he sighs, extending his arms so they can access his hip holsters. He doesn't really want to but maybe cooperating will aid in his case. No use antagonising the people who might or might not be his ticket out of here.

“All clear”, the one behind him grunts before throwing his rifle, the shotgun and his pistol on the ground – which makes him wince, can't they be careful with his weapons – and starts removing his omni-tool.  
  
“Is this really necessary?”, he asks annoyed but the Turian doesn't budge, only glowers at him. The man behind her remains silent. Once he has been relieved of everything that could be used as a weapon the spacesuits step back again, one kicking his stuff further away from him and the other keeping his gun trained on him.

“Now, let's try again. What are you? How did you find this place? This planet is abandoned. How did you get to 'your' lake? And most of all – how can you breathe with a broken helmet?”, the Turian asks, her voice dangerously dark. Ah yes. Of course they want the whole story.  
  
“I'm from Ark Hyperion”, he answers with a sigh, resigning himself to a long discussion. Well. At least they're not leaving without him when they're talking to him. “We were tasked to see if the planet was viable. But, surprise! It isn't. Killed half my crew and almost me and now I'm stranded here. Last I remember is that we got blown up by this huge vault thing.” He doesn't mention the Pathfinder. Doesn't mention that they left him here. That's his story and his alone. They don't need to know. “So.”, he claps his hands and then quickly holds them up again as the spacesuits almost charge at him. The hazel-eyed man chuckles quietly. “Jeez, you guys are jumpy. I'm unarmed, you made sure of that. Anyway. I take it you're not from the Nexus then?” He tries to steer the conversation away from his breathing-issue. Truth is he still has no idea how he's doing it. But thinking about it makes his head hurt and a strange panic clench his chest.

The Turian looks more and more annoyed by the second. He has this effect on people. “A newbie then. Dammit. Thought we lost the Arks...”, she mutters then shakes her head – apparently the appearance of an Ark had done its job in distracting both of them from his broken helmet.

“Let's say we're...an independent party”, the other man interjected her mutterings. “Like a colony.”

The Turian makes an unhappy noise at him but she doesn't say anything. Weird. Those two were so weird.  
  
“An independent party”, he repeats unimpressed and gazes flatly at the man's innocent expression – at least he thinks it's innocent, it's hard to see with half of his face covered by his helmet. “I...see.” For a moment he's quiet – he needs to think about his options. Fact 1: He needs to get off this planet or he'll die. Fact 2: Something has obviously has happened during the time their Ark was missing. Fact 3: He frankly doesn't care at all because right now he's hurting and thirsty and definitely pissed at his father. So what if those two here were strange? Their behaviour hinted on something not quite legal going on here but once again he just doesn't give a shit. He just wants off this planet.  
  
“Okay you know what”, he starts, decision made, “I honestly don't give a fuck where you're from or who you are. You give me a ride out of here and we'll just forget this whole encounter. I really just need to get back to the Nexus and then you won't have to see me again.”

In his head, it really sounds like a solid offer but the Turian seems to bristle. “We're not going back to the Nexus!”, she hisses and he actually takes a step back. She looks even more hostile than before. Again he hears a quiet chuckle but pays no mind to the other man still leaning on the shuttle. Right now he's more focused on not getting shot by an angry and possibly criminal Turian.

“Wow wow – alright, no Nexus. I got it. Just...somewhere they can pick me up. Doesn't have to be fancy. Just one ride and I'm on my way. I'd really rather not die here”, he admits. Maybe playing the sympathy card will make her have mercy with his sorry ass. Getting stranded here like an idiot...he really is sorry isn't he. He shoves those thoughts away. No, not dealing with that right now. He suddenly feels tired, his body aching again from everything he's put himself through during the last few...what, hours? Days? He can't think like that...he refocuses on the Turian. “Look I really just want to get out of here. I have no idea how long I've been here already and I'm starting to feel I won't actually _be_ here for much longer if you leave me. So really. Can't you just take me to a planet less ready to kill me and drop me off there?”  
  
Something must show on his face because once more the two share a meaningful glance. Then the Turian makes that unhappy noise again but puts her gun away.  
  
“What do we get for taking you?”, she asks rather reluctantly.

Ah yes. He hasn't thought of this...which is a slight problem. “Uhm...my endless gratitude?”, he tries, but the Turian hisses again.  
  
“Quit that! I'm talking about Credits!”  
  
“Well, have you found any while searching me?”, he shoots back, aiming to sound annoyed but not able to keep the desperation fully out of his voice. “I think I have 50 Credits on my omni-tool but otherwise I'm broke. Didn't really receive my first pay-check you know, since I've been busy falling off a cliff!” He shouldn't scream at her. He shouldn't say such things but he's desperate and his head is spinning and he is _so close_ to getting off this hellhole of a planet and now, now his deal will be off because he doesn't have any _money_? God, he hates this fucking Galaxy..

“No Credits no transport!”, the Turian hisses at him, stepping closer. “I'm not risking someone seeing me with a _Nexus_ for nothing! I'm no fucking charity!” She'll shoot him, he's sure. She has her pistol in his face and he honestly just hopes she'll do it quickly so he won't have to starve to death. Well. Seems like dear old dad got what he wanted after all. He's getting dizzy again.

“Velonia.” A hand on the Turian's shoulder makes him pause. She huffs but steps back a little, her eyes still narrowed.  
  
“What are you doing, Vidal?”, she asks the man but he only throws a wink her way. Huh.  
  
“I'll take him”, the man – Vidal – says and steps forward. Hazel eyes roam over his frame and a smirk appears on full lips.  
  
“Are you out of your mind?”, the Turian asks. She seems only one word short of getting her pistol into his face again.

“Quite the opposite. You're right you can't really take him, Morda would probably hunt you for sport”, Vidal speaks again, throwing a look at the Turian before nodding at him.  
  
“Oh and Sloane won't?”  
  
“Sloane doesn't have to know.”

That damned smirk is back in place and he really doesn't know what to make of this man.

“God you're so-” The rest is lost on his translator but Vidal laughs and pats her on the shoulder.  
  
“Stop worrying. You know me. Anyway, if I intend to take this stowaway to port before curfew I think we should part ways for today. I really don't want to pay the late fees.”

“As if you wouldn't find a way around them as well...”, the Turian murmurs but then she sighs. “Look, it's your choice. But you better be ready for pick-up next week and not shot by Nexus over here or I'll find you and kill you again.”  
  
“Such sweet words you say”, Vidal smirks and then turns around to pick up the weapons still lying on the floor. “I'll take those for now. You'll get them back after you left my ship.”

Seems reasonable. He probably would try and take precautions too if he was to take a stranger on his ship.

“Sounds fine to me”, he answers, happy he'll get his stuff back at all. And really, he can't complain. He's so relieved he feels light-headed. He will actually get off this damned planet. The Nexus will be able to pick him up and he just...he can go and finally get answers to what the hell happened here on Habitat 7. He feels his throat close up. No. Not thinking about that now.

“I still think you're a mad man.” The Turian shakes her head then motions her people to follow her onto her shuttle. “Fly safe.”

“And you”, Vidal nods in turn and together they watch her take off, flying back into the direction of the lake. “We really should leave too”, Vidal then says and puts a hand on his back, leading him to his own shuttle.

“Where exactly are you taking me?”, he asks when he follows Vidal into the ship, sitting down on one of the few seats seaming the sides of the shuttle. For a moment Vidal doesn't answer, securing the newly acquired crates then turning and sitting down on the pilot's chair. A few buttons later the doors slide shut.

He puts his seatbelt on. Last time he was on a shuttle he got blown out of it.  
  
“We're going to Kadara in the Govorkam system.”, Vidal then answers, still pressing buttons and pulling levers.  
  
“Kadara?”, he asks frowning. He hasn't heard of that planet.  
  
“It was advertised as 'Habitat 4'”, Vidal answers distractedly. “Not much of a habitat, though better than this mess here. Hold on-” The engine makes a stuttering noise. Another one. Vidal curses quietly and tries again. A third noise and finally the engine springs to life. “Damned Asari, she said she had her fixed...”, he mutters before he starts the take-off. “My lady here doesn't really like the FTL travel anymore. Cost me a week's salary to get her fixed up and she's already back to her old stubbornness.”  
  
Oh great. Now he's on a ship that sounded as if it'd break apart any moment. Ah well. Not much he can do about it now. When he dies he dies. Would have died if he stayed, will probably die now that he leaves. And no, he's not hysteric.  
  
“Come to think of it, I didn't catch your name.” The man says as the shuttle slowly starts to take off. He watches the ground grow smaller under them and can't help but feel relieved about it anyway. To be honest, anywhere is better than here. His head pounds. His body aches. He just wants something to drink and sleep..  
  
“I didn't give you one”, he distracts himself by answering. “You're Vidal I take it?”  
  
“Reyes Vidal”, the man nods and looks over his shoulder for a moment before focusing on the sky again. “But my friends call me Reyes. Except for Velonia but she's just plain rude.”

He chuckles tiredly. Yeah, he'd gotten that impression from the Turian.

“Now. What's your name? Or are you going to be rude too?”

He hears the smirk in Reyes' voice. For a moment he hesitates but ultimately decides to answer. He owes this man.  
  
“My name's Kieran.”  
  
“Kieran” It sounds different coming from Reyes. Maybe it's the accent. Maybe it's this strangely honeyed voice, dark but rich. Maybe Kieran simply hit his head too hard and is hallucinating again. “No family name?”  
  
And now. Isn't that the question. Kieran is quiet for maybe a little too long. Thinks of his mother, but she's gone isn't she. Thinks of his sister, somewhere in a coma, who might never wake up again. And then he thinks of his father, who left him on a foreign planet. Didn't even have the decency to take his body back to the Hyperion. Anger wells up in him, anger and maybe despair as well. He swallows hard around the lump in his throat, closes his eyes in an attempt to reign in the fire that's burning inside him.  
  
“No”, he answers, his voice eerily calm. “No family name.”

“Alright then...Kieran”, Reyes nods, he seems to simply accept this fact without question. Kieran likes him better by the minute. “How about telling me how the hell you've been able to breathe down there with your helmet broken?” Remember that thing about liking Reyes? It was a lie.

“You have your secrets. I have mine”, he answers and even though he's tired, he makes sure the warning makes it into his tone as well. And by the way the pilot only shoots him a look before nodding, he guesses he had succeeded.

But the question lingers in his mind. He needs to find that answer himself. And judged by that heavy feeling in his chest..he's already sure he certainly won't like the answer..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am kinda anxious about writing my favourite characters, so I hope I could do Reyes justice. Anyway, hope you liked it and if you want to share your thoughts with me, that'd be great. Can't get better without a critic right? 
> 
> Hope I can post the next chapter soon! Depends on my schedule. I've tagged this story as "Irregular, slow posting" because I really don't wanna disappoint you guys when I take longer to update. But yeah. Anyway, thanks so much for reading!


	2. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheew, I had not expected this to take as long as it did, but to be fair, I don't think anyone expected several lockdowns either and the impact they had on my creativity. Luckily only my creativity was impacted though and not my health, so that's always a plus! 
> 
> Anyway, here's a new chapter and I hope you like it. I'm quite satsified with it myself. For me, the first few chapters are key in setting the tone for the character I'm writing about so I hope I could convey Kieran's thoughts properly!  
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW: choking, not being able to breathe (if you want to skip it, stop reading when Kieran falls asleep at the end of the chapter/skip the very last paragraph)

They don't talk during the first hour of their trip to Kadara. Vidal makes some off-handed comments, tries to pry a bit into what happened on Habitat 7 but Kieran stays silent until eventually the other man stops his questioning. He doesn't know what happened in Heleus for there to be people already settled on a planet – especially so called 'independent parties' but he also doesn't really feel like asking. Everything will be explained to him soon, he's sure. He just needs to reach the Nexus. That's all he allows himself to think about.

Even though right now, he probably shouldn't think about anything, not with the way his head is hurting. Is it normal to feel so dizzy after falling off a cliff? Probably. He vaguely remembers his jump-jets catching parts of his fall, slowing him but he still landed pretty hard. Add taking the brunt force of that explosion cloud to his face to the whole mix and maybe his condition is actually reasonable.

He really just wants to sleep, preferably for five days. The shuttle seat isn't exactly the most comfortable place but it feels better than the stones digging into his back when he was still lying in that lake so he isn't going to complain. Instead, he lets himself relax and eventually fall asleep to the quiet sound of Vidal talking with someone on his omni-tool.

His neck and back hurt like a bitch when he awakes a few hours later. They're still surrounded by darkness and the stars, and he's mostly slumped over to the side in his seat. Cursing quietly Kieran rightens himself and rubs a heavy hand over his face. He still feels sluggish and slow from sleep but at least the headaches have died down a little bit.

“Good, you're awake”, Vidal's voice comes from the pilot seat. At some point he must have turned his seat around because he's now lounging with his legs stretched out and looking at him. God, how long had he been watching him? He frowns a bit uncomfortably and runs a hand through his short red hair. 600 years in cryo thankfully had stopped it from growing and so he is still sporting his Alliance issued standard cut.

“Shouldn't you concentrate on flying?”, he asks grumpily and looks out the front window of the shuttle. Only now does he realise they're not moving anymore. His frown deepens.

“Ah, we've just reached Kadara's orbit. I'm waiting for permission to land. A good opportunity for a little chat, don't you think?”

And shit, Kieran hasn't forgotten the payment issue. He sighs, already raising his arm with his omni-tool attached to it. “Right right...”

Vidal however holds out his hand, shaking his head. “I don't need your Credits. If you truly want to get back to the Nexus, you'll need the money. Few people still bother to make their way even close to that cluster so you see – transport won't be cheap.”

Kieran narrows his eyes as he lowers his arm again. “It already isn't. What do you want then? Or are you trying to make me believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?”

“What, can't I just help out a stranger in need without having an ulterior motive?”

“No”, Kieran answers bluntly. He truly isn't in the mood for these games.

This time though, Vidal laughs. “I am hurt, Kieran. Truly.” He sounds amused but there is something in those hazel eyes...something Kieran can't quiet place. It's calculating. Assessing. “You're right, of course. I do want something.”

“Obviously. Shoot.”

“A favour.” 

For a moment Kieran only looks at him, takes him in. Vidal seems relaxed, still sitting slightly slouched in his chair, hands comfortably rested on his thighs. He's the picture of unthreatening. And that's really what puts Kieran on edge. Nobody who asks for a favour as payment is unthreatening. They always have a hidden agenda. Kieran likes to think that he's good at reading people but Vidal...he just can't get anything from him. It's disturbing.

“That's not what we agreed upon.”

“We didn't agree on anything. You didn't ask my price before accepting my offer.”

“You didn't tell me yours!” He sits up straight, gritting his teeth against the urge to get up. He has nowhere to go. He's very much aware of being in a shuttle, out in space. Should Vidal decide to get rid of him...and even if Kieran got the jump on the man, he still wouldn't know how to fly the damn shuttle! He takes in a deep breath. Getting angry won't help him right now. It's just...a favour was a massive deal. It could be anything and if Kieran has learnt one thing during his 23 years of life, it is that you don't give away a favour lightly. But he really doesn't have a choice now, does he? He couldn't have stayed on Habitat 7 or he would have died.

He eyes Vidal who's still casually watching him like the dick he is, and takes another forcedly calm breath. “What favour.”

“Nothing for now. But I'm sure having someone on the Nexus will come in handy in time.”

And of course it's that, right? He wished he had never mentioned the Ark Hyperion or the Nexus at all. Right now he has no idea what Vidal could possibly want from the Nexus – he must have arrived in Andromeda _on_ the Nexus so shouldn't he be his own inside-man? But really he was in no position to decline now.

“Fine”, he spits out, his eyes shooting daggers at the other man. “Whatever. Can we get out of here now?”

Vidal grins – or at least Kieran thinks he does – holds out a hand and says: “Pleasure doing business with you.” to which Kieran only huffs in anger. Vidal swivels around in his chair and looks over the console. “It seems we have permission to land now. I'd strongly advise you to throw a coat or something over your armour though – that Nexus insignia won't help you make friends in Kadara. Especially if you want to avoid attention.”

Kieran rolls his eyes. “What problem do you people have with the Nexus?”

“Something that hopefully won't concern you anymore in a few hours. Approaching LZ, sit tight.”

They arrive at the port a short time later and Kieran has to hold himself back from pressing his nose against the shuttle windows, dark eyes wide in wonder. It's...a lot. From what he can see, the planet is beautiful. It seems like all around him there are mountains so high and steep it feels like they're going to scrape the shuttle as soon as they breach the atmosphere. Turquoise lakes and rivers wave around the mountains, gleaming in the reddish late evening sunlight and seamed by plants he has never seen before. Once, he even believes to hear a mighty roar over the noise of the shuttle but surely he had been mistaken. 

As they're closing in on Kadara his sight gets drawn to the city built into the mountains. It is...huge and far too advanced for the short time the Milky Way inhabitants had been in Andromeda. Even from the shuttle he can see it buzzing with life, flickering electric lights, and container homes stacked on top of each other. It's a sight to behold and for the first time since he woke up he truly realises that he's _in a new galaxy_. He'd awoken only what...20 hours prior? from cryo sleep and now he's approaching a city on a new planet, in a new galaxy and maybe- maybe their plan hasn't failed after all.

Maybe one of the other Pathfinders had made it to Andromeda before him – they had different arrival times after all, hadn't they? Maybe they had found other planets than the planned Habitats to live on. Maybe this city here, Kadara Port, was one of them – a golden world for species who had travelled too far to give up even though the original plan hadn't worked out.

A tickle in his neck tells him that Vidal is watching him but he frankly doesn't care right now. Not when he's about to see the first city they had founded in Heleus. He's out of the shuttle basically the moment the doors open – and almost runs over two dock workers already waiting to unload crates. He apologises and they barely even muster the energy to glare at him. The first thing he notices though, is the sulfurous stench that permeates the air, burning his nose all the way down to his lungs. For a moment, it feels like he's choking on the air alone, can't breathe, he's coughing with a hand pressed over his mouth and nose as if that would keep out the biting stench. He wonders absent-mindedly how toxic the air around him actually is, but then his breathing evens out and it almost feels like his lungs just...filter it out. It's weird, it feels weird, but maybe the air filtering mechanic in his helmet somehow still works. It's the only way he could have survived Habitat 7 after all, even though his display is completely broken.

As soon as his airways are free again, he's distracted by the bustling port once more. The smell, though horrible, is quick to be forgotten as he takes in the port, still in some sort of awe, even though it doesn't look that different from those he has seen before. But this is Heleus not the Milky Way, no matter how similar things seem to be. Those are mountains he has never seen before, which are probably not even made of the same elements and materials he's used to. And those lakes – who says they're really filled with water? What about those plants? They _seem_ of familiar shape to some of the flora in the Milky Way but- what if they aren't? What if they're... _sentient_? He just doesn't know. And for once he misses SAM's voice in his head, who could have answered all his questions with a simple scan and a mechanical voice.

He watches people log crates back and forth, some seemingly taking stock of what is unloaded from shuttles, others refuelling a ship. It's busy and it's familiar and- _there are aliens on this port._ He shouldn't be as shocked as he feels but his excitement surges, suddenly making his heart beat in his throat. They had prepared themselves for meeting alien species – but that was the Pathfinder's job! First contact and everything! Just...obviously the first contact has been established a long time ago judging by the way everyone simply works around each other. One of the aliens catches him staring and- Kieran has never had to face such an expressive gaze before. He feels like he just stumbled into a pool full of emotions. It's almost overwhelming.

A chuckle reaches his ears and distracts him from the alien's intensive – if suspicious – gaze and he turns to find Vidal speaking with who seems to be the dock manager.

“-has never seen an Angara before. Don't worry about him, he'll come around.” When Vidal notices him watching them, he waves Kieran over then claps a hand on his shoulder. Kieran stares at it in disdain but the other man doesn't retract it – Vidal seems entirely too comfortable with physical contact and Kieran isn't sure how he feels about that. He contemplates just shrugging the hand off and then maybe pushing Vidal off the fucking docks when the man speaks again.

“Now, my friend here needs a ride to the Nexus. Not what you think”, he amends quickly when the dock manager narrows his eyes. Kieran is happy he hadn't acted on his former thought. “I can't say much about what he's doing but it'll please Sloane Kelly and will do Kadara a great service if he gets there as soon as possible.”

It feels like an insult and by the way Vidal's lips twitch up in a smirk, the man is aware of that. Yeah, he definitely should push him off the docks.

“I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Reyes”, the dock manager frowns but Vidal holds out his hands in a placating manner.

“Oh, it's all fair and legal, I assure you!”

“Stop talking before I tell my men to search your crates. Sloane's been coming down harsh on the import fees this week, so don't get too cocky with me. Your load's same as always?”

“Just legally bought salvage, as always.” He sounds far too innocent for the smirk he's still wearing, but it seems to work on the dock manager since the man just sighs and marks something down on his datapad.

“Make sure to get your shit off my docks before nightfall. About that Nexus transport”, here he leans in and lowers his voice as he speaks to Vidal, “I know that a shipment is due to arrive in about four days. The pilot always goes to Kralla's for a drink before leaving the next day. If your _friend_ can wait that long he might be able to hitch a ride.”

Vidal tips his head in thanks and taps on his omni-tool. Kieran doesn’t have to think hard about what kind of exchange just happened. The dock manager grins and steps away then. “Reliable as always”, he says before turning and getting back to his work with one last look at them. Vidal hums to himself, a frown on his face for a second before he turns back to Kieran and hands him the weapons he'd taken from him back before their lift-off.

“Thanks”, Kieran makes himself murmur. To be honest, he's not entirely happy about Vidal getting him that information. His debt to the man seems to grow by the minute. But Vidal only waves it off.

“You'll pay me back at some point.” 

And oh, isn't that the issue.

“Anyway”, he says, “that's your transport taken care of. Now I think it's best we part ways. I have supplies to deliver.” He motions to the crates which have already been stacked up, filed into datapads, and are now apparently ready for transport. “I'm sure we'll meet again and…welcome to Kadara”, he says in that weirdly charming but calculating tone, and as he watches the man walk away from him, Kieran wonders if that was a promise or a threat. He doesn't say goodbye.

Kadara port is everything humanity had hoped to leave behind in the Milky Way.

It doesn’t take him long to realise that this planet is as far from a “Golden World” as it could get. If the Kett-head on a spike isn’t warning enough, he feels it the moment he steps through the door and onto the market square. Even though he was born and raised on the Citadel, Kieran has been to earth quite a few times. He knows the feeling of a structured, well cared for city and this…this isn’t it. He sees it in the suspicious gazes of the merchants whenever someone steps up to their stalls. He sees it in the way passers-by group together, barely anyone walks the streets on their own. He sees it in the grim looking guards, heavily armed and stationed at every turn.

Kadara Port is a rough city and he can’t help but wonder how it developed this way, with how strict the Nexus’ rules are. He doesn’t dislike it though. He grew up in the clean, organized society of the Citadel and then joined the Alliance, with its military regulations and order. He’s used to having every part of his life dictated by rules and seeing a city so obviously free of these restrictions makes it just a little easier to breathe. At the same time he doesn’t really know how to behave around here. It’s so different from what he knows and while it does make excitement run through his body, it also makes him wary.

Soon enough though his attention wanders to the buildings – familiar in nature, but oh so different. They seem human made but also...not. Maybe it's the influence of the strange galaxy, but maybe the Milky Way inhabitants didn't build this at all – he doesn't know, there is so much he doesn't know yet. Huge water tanks line the side walls of the square and his gaze lingers for a second, trying not to think of what this means for Kadara's water supply.

There are people milling around, going about their business and Kieran tries not to stare whenever he encounters one of those aliens he saw at the Port earlier. They don't really pay him much attention though. Again he takes notice of the horrible smell of rotten eggs, trying not to gag as he goes past an air-vent. The people around it seem used to it and he wonders how long it will take him until he can ignore it just like them. He doesn't really plan on staying long enough to find out.

While the aliens are simply ignoring him, it's actually the Milky Way inhabitants who seem to be keeping an eye on him. More and more often does he catch someone looking at him out of the corner of their eye and one time a guard even takes a few steps forwards. 

“Nexus scum”, someone murmurs next to him and while he turns around towards his accuser, someone else bumps into his other shoulder- hard. It almost sends him tumbling into some crates stacked in the middle of the square and one heavily armed Turian pushes him back. “Watch it”, she growls and he frowns but unclenches his fists and decides not to get into any brawls...yet.

If it wasn't clear to him then, it only takes a few more run-ins with the locals to make him consider heeding Vidal's advice. As much as it pains him that the man is right, he really needs to do something about his shiny Alliance armour. People don't seem to take too kindly to it and maybe he will be able to walk over a market square without getting pushed into guards if he can get rid of this shiny insignia basically marking him as an outsider.

He's keenly aware of his lack of money though, so he doesn't keep his hopes very high on getting something decent to wear until he actually takes a look at some of the shops lining the metal-clad market. As strange as it seems, the very first one he walks past sells armor parts. A wide array even, some Initiative made, some scrapped together, and some look so different in making that he can only assume they belong to one of the two alien species he's encountered in Heleus yet. 

Kieran stops to look at the display for a moment, marvelling at the strange looks of what seems to be a leg piece, when a hand slams down on the counter right at the edge of his vision. “Hey!”, a gruff voice sounds way too close to his head. “The fuck is someone like you doing here? We're not selling to Nexus traitors. Get a move on before my boys make you!”

For a second he just closes his eyes and prays for patience. He's had a pretty shitty day already with what almost dying and being stranded on a strange planet and everything going to literal shit and he really can't make it worse by attacking a stranger for being a rude little asshole. At least that's what he tells himself when he looks up to look at the merchant, eyes burning bright with anger. He's always had a short fuse when tired.

But Kieran has noticed a recurring theme when it came to the inhabitants of Kadara – they did not take too kindly to Nexus associates. So when he looks up, he places the biggest sneer on his face he can muster and looks down his nose at the shorter Krogan. “Who are you calling Nexus here?”, he he asked loudly, doing his best to look offended. “As if I'd want anything to do with that scum!”

The scene seems to draw a few onlookers, but nobody intervenes, they only whisper to each other and then hurry along. The Krogan meanwhile looks at him with narrowed eyes and Kieran stares back. Don't show weakness, that was the first rule in all fights with the Krogan.

“You wear their armor and their weapons. You basically reek Nexus, you rat.”, the Krogan merchant growls, face inches away from Kierans. He feels his muscles tense up, body alert and mind ready for a fight should it come. For a few seconds they stare at each other. It gets harder not to give in, crumble under that hostile gaze and leave before he can get his ass handed to him. He takes a deep breath and continues his story.

“Well, that's just what it takes if you try to stay unnoticed between all those stuck-up bastards, isn't it?”, he hisses. “I'd gladly get out off this thing. If there's still a merchant around here interested in buying armor instead of insulting fellow citizens.” For a moment he's sure he fucked up. He's sure that he'll get shot, right here, because insulting and angering a Krogan is never a good idea.

But then the Krogan in front of him grins approvingly and leans back. It's a dark expression and if he hadn't already almost died several times today, Kieran would have swallowed nervously. “I'll give you 50 Credits for it.”

“Stop fucking with me, we both know this is worth more than 1000c new.”

“It's not new though is it?”

“It's almost new. Just wore it for the flight here. I want 500c at the least.” Another lie. The armor does have several scratches from kett bullets and falling off a fucking cliff. And the helmet is almost completely useless.

“Tell that to your grandchildren because that's how long you can wait for a deal like that, Nexus.”

“Not Nexus. And your prices aren't fair. That's not good for business if that info spreads, is it?”

The Krogan narrows his eyes. “Alright you little shit, I'll pay you 200c and that's my final offer.”

Kieran glares back – it is still harshly under worth but he figures that for 200c, he'll probably be able to get a room for four nights around here. “200c and you give me this leather chest piece. Can't run around in just my undersuit. Do we have a deal?”, he still tries and to his surprise, the Krogan actually laughs at that. They shake on it though and Kieran is ushered into a storage room to change.

When he steps out again, 200c richer and at least looking slightly less like he came straight from the Initiative, he's glad that Kadara is such a warm planet. Even with the broken helmet, his suit had been filtering a lot of the warmth out of the air and when he steps into the late evening sun, he's actually glad he's wearing something less constricting than his armor. There's a light breeze in the air, wafting what seems to be a cloud of foul egg smell directly into his face, but he doesn't choke on it like he had back on his arrival. The shops around him seem to start packing up, with fewer people actually on the streets. The only ones still around are the guards, who seem to have lost interest in him now that he's out of his armor. It's fascinating how easy it is to blend in with the people on Kadara's streets.

Before it gets dark, he finds a place to pawn off some of his weapons, keeping nothing but his standard issue pistol. It's easier to sell his weapons now that he isn't looking like an Initiative soldier anymore, and he makes a show out of pulling them out from under his shirt as if he had smuggled them in. The merchant – a dark haired woman – seems to buy it though and gives him more money than he would probably have gotten if he'd sold it on the Nexus.

It elevates his mood considerably, especially once he finds out that Krallas' Song, the tavern the port manager spoke of, isn't only very obvious to find but also very close to both him and the landing zone. There is no way he's missing his flight from here, he thinks to himself, as he gets closer to the big metal doors.

Music is already to be heard from outside and it gets considerably louder the moment he steps inside. The tavern itself is nothing special. It has a nice view from what he can see, but otherwise consists of nothing but the bar and a few steel tables. The music is blaring, but not loud enough that he has to shout when he approaches the bar to order. The Asari tending the bar is looking at him as if he is vermin which had crawled out of her shower drain. 

“What do you want?”, she asks, her voice bored but her words clipped. 

“Something to drink would be nice. And a room”, he answers, leaning against the counter invitingly. She just scoffs at him 

“Take your paws off my bar. I’ll give you a whiskey but that’s about all I can do for you.” The look she gives him speaks volumes and he frowns first at his own admittedly ratty attire, then at the almost as ratty bar around him. 

“Somehow I don’t believe that. I’ll take the whiskey and a room.” He holds eye-contact for a few seconds before adding, “I can pay.”

She raises her eyebrow at him and slides a metal pitcher over the counter. “Somehow I don’t believe that”, she echoes and wow, he hadn’t known someone could sound that condescending. 

“I can”, he answers, gets comfortable on one of the bar stools and takes a deep drag of his drink. It burns down his throat and not in a good way. “I’ll even pay in advance.”

“Oh?” Now he has her attention. “Lucky me. So this isn’t a ‘I’m new to Kadara and have nowhere to go’ kind of request?”

She has him there but to be fair, he does know where he’ll go. Soon. “I have a ship to catch”, he simply answers, placing his left arm on the counter, ready to activate his omnitool. “Three nights. Maybe four. That’s all I need.” He takes another sip. This time, the horrible concoction goes down easier. He wonders what it’s made of and is glad that he doesn’t know at the same time. 

“Four nights, max. If you’re not gone when the sun sets, I’ll drag you out of here myself.”

“Charming”, he answers drily, raising his glass to toast her. “I’ll take that.”

“Good. Now pay up and then piss off, I have other customers as well.” 

He leaves for his room rather quickly after finishing his drink. He feels totally beat and after the day he’s had, he tells himself he can definitely go upstairs sooner and catch a nap. Or just sleep through half the day and the night, if he so wants. After all, he just almost died, then miraculously survived, hiked through half of a deadly planet to catch a smuggler ship, and now he is in a city he didn’t known existed and which seemed to hate the very organisation that brough them here. 

Kadara is…interesting to him. He thinks about it a little bit, while lying in his uncomfortable, thin bed, staring at the ceiling. Thinks about the people he’d encountered today, the places he’d seen. The promises he'd made. His brow furrows at that. He doesn’t like that he now owes a favour to Vidal, doesn’t like it one bit. It’s something he’ll have to bring up with his father at some point so it won’t get in the way of their mission and- if that isn’t a whole other can of worms. 

This time, Kieran actually has to shut his eyes to quell the rage and hurt bubbling up in his throat. His father left him there. Even if he had though Kieran dead…he didn’t bring him. He just left him there, to rot, or melt, or whatever else a body does on this blasted planet, but point is – he left him there. After losing his wife, almost losing his daughter, he just…disregarded his dead son and went back to the Hyperion without him. Without his body. 

When he closes his eyes, he can still see his father’s face hovering over his own while he gasped for air. He had said something, but Kieran couldn’t hear what, not over the pounding of his own blood in his ears while he choked on chemicals that should never have found a way into his lungs. 

He opens his eyes again, a bit dizzy and definitely nauseous from the memory. Or maybe it’s the whiskey. It really hadn’t tasted edible after all… 

No. He shakes his head to clear his mind. No, maybe his father had an explanation. Maybe he had thought Kieran’s body would have poisoned everyone. Maybe he couldn’t look at him, a reminder of his dead wife. Maybe…He will ask. Soon enough, he’ll arrive at the Nexus. Soon enough, he will be where he should be so he can fulfil his duty to the Pathfinder and his team. 

_At ease, Soldier!_ , the voice of his old Commander sounds in his head and he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes once again. Four more days and he will get answers. Four more days and he can see his sister again. Four more days and he will be home. Or as close as home as he is about to get for a long time. Just four more days. 

He hadn’t noticed how he had fallen asleep until he wakes with a start, hands flying up to scratch at his throat. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and there is a burning pain in his chest, licking up his throat like flames, leaving raw flesh in their wake. He can’t breathe and there is nothing, nothing he can do, nothing, nothing, father please-

Suddenly the feeling is gone. Air streams into his lungs and he coughs, painful and wet, can’t stop for a long time. He feels completely drained when he’s finally able to stretch out again from where he’d curled up from the painful coughing and pulls his hand from his mouth. For a moment, he just lies there, taking one careful breath after the other but the pain doesn’t come. Air flows as freely as it always does, nothing even reminding him of what had felt like a shrapnel bomb to his lungs. 

“What the fuck?”, he whispers, staring at the same metal ceiling again, the bass from the song downstairs slightly shaking his bed. Nobody answers him. 

He stays like this for a few minutes, maybe longer, until his eyelids feel too heavy to keep them open anymore and so he turns onto his right side, arms stretched out in front of him. Just before he falls asleep, his gaze catches on his right hand. 

There, barely noticeable in the dark, his palm is covered in several dark splotches of blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you liked the chapter! I've already started on the third one, so we'll see how that goes. Still, the tag still stands, I will only update sporadically! Hopefully there won't be as long a gap as there was this time though. 
> 
> If you could take the time to let me know your thoughts on this, I'd be very grateful! 
> 
> Anyway, stay safe and hopefully until soon!


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